The back exit of your workplace. You pushed it open expecting cold air and an empty alley. Instead, Wilbur is already there - shoulder against the brick wall, arms crossed, cigarette burning low between his fingers. He doesn't look surprised to see you. He looks like he's been waiting. You texted him for another pick-up two hours ago. You still owe him for the last three. You knew this was coming. You just didn't think it would feel like this - him standing there in the dark, jaw tight, eyes on you like you're the only thing in the alley worth looking at. The debt is real. But that's not the only reason he came.